They Also Serve
by WillowDryad
Summary: While Jess was gone during "Midnight Rebellion," what was going on back home at the ranch?


****Disclaimer: Jess Harper. Slim Sherman, Andy Sherman, Jonesy, and all the characters and situations in _Laramie_ belong to their copyright holders and not to me. ******I feel, at least in respect to Jess Harper, the situation is patently inequitable.**

**THEY ALSO SERVE**

"**They also serve who only stand and wait." **

**John Milton **

_He's gone plum loco._

That's all I could think when I saw Jess standing in the Stockmen's that night, a glass of whiskey in his hand and the devil in his eyes. There was dust and bits of plaster on the bar in front of him. The fool kid musta put a bullet into the ceiling just for pure cussedness. He was giving old Sam, the bartender, that "what are you gonna do about it?" grin I'd seen more than once lately. All I could figure was he was drunk. Or crazy.

"Remind me to tell you what I think of government marshals," he was saying as I came in, the same peevishness in his tone that he'd been packing around for the past few days.

I wondered where Slim had took himself off too, but I knew I couldn't wait to figure it out. Jess was just being ornery so far, but he was sure looking like he wasn't gonna be satisfied with just that. _Jonesy,_ I told myself, _it's time to get him out of here and cooled down. _I saw pretty quick I wasn't gonna have any such luck.

Jess looked me up and down with a mocking sneer. "Well, if it ain't my keeper come to fetch me." He picked up his bottle and, turning to lean back on the bar, offered it to me. "Have a drink, keeper."

I'd had about enough of his mouth after the past few days. He'd been picking at me and sniping at Slim more and more all the time, and it was a wonder the two of them hadn't yet come to blows. If Jess had acted that way to Andy, I know Slim would have torn into him, and dadburn it if I wouldn't have helped him. Still, this was more than enough. I gave him a hard look.

"Supplies are all loaded, and it's time to go home, Jess."

"Home sweet home." He curled his lip. "Home to the good old Sherman ranch, the nicest, dullest, cleanest spread this side of the Mississippi."

I didn't notice Slim had come in until he was beside us. He didn't look any happier with Jess than I was, but somehow he managed to keep his tone even.

"What's eatin' you, Jess?"

Jess put his bottle back on the bar and turned to Slim, leaning back on his elbow again, his mouth in a hard line. "I'll tell you what's eatin' me," he said, his voice low and tight. "Cows and chickens and chores. Workin' from sunup to sundown while you rake in all the money, that's what."

Slim was generally a patient man, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how he managed to keep calm right then. I guess he thought Jess was drunk or something.

"Let's go home," he said quietly.

He tried to take Jess's arm, but Jess shoved him away, petulant as a spoilt child.

Slim had finally had enough. "Now wait a minute—"

Out of nowhere, Jess punched him, making him stagger back into a chair. That was all I could take.

"Now look here—"

Jess shoved me back, growling, "Go on, take him home."

He turned back to the bar and took another drink. There was a stranger sitting at the table nearest the door watching us, but I didn't have time to worry about him. Slim was still slumped in that chair, not moving. I went to him and tried to bring him around, but he wasn't waking up.

"So you're the one that's causing all the ruckus in here, huh?"

I looked up to see another stranger had come in, a big man, tall and heavy, his graying mustache and unhurried stride saying plainly that the marshal's badge on his chest hadn't been pinned there yesterday. I could see he'd handled a few bad-tempered drunks in his time. I sure wasn't going to object if he saw to Jess right now.

Jess turned from the bar and leaned back against it again, looking the marshal up and down. "Well, now, I don't know, marshal. I'm just tryin' to liven things up a little."

Unimpressed, the marshal came over to me. I still couldn't get Slim to open his eyes. It was beginning to worry me.

The marshal looked us over. "Seems to me that you and this boss of yours oughta be able to keep this young jackass in line."

I couldn't help it. I looked over at Jess. Jess didn't need much to set him off.

"Who you callin' names, marshal?"

The marshal went back over to him, somehow unruffled. "Nobody but you, son."

Jess was starting to boil, I could hear it in his voice, see it in how his lips were pressed tight and in the quivering tautness in his whole body.

The marshal either didn't notice or didn't care. "I don't know whether you're worth keepin' a leash on or not."

Jess exploded then, slamming his glass to the floor, shattering it. "You'd better eat that," he snarled, "or you're liable to find out."

The men at the end of the bar hustled out of the way, and suddenly, the two of them were facing off, Jess and the marshal. No, this wasn't good. This was beyond just cussedness. It was beyond drunkenness.

I got over to them. Jess was pulling his gloves tight, and I knew what that meant.

"Jess," I said, almost desperate for something to make him come to his senses. "Slim's hurt."

He only shoved me away with his left hand, keeping his right near his gun. "Keep outta this, Jonesy," he spat. "I don't have to take any lip from this two-bit badge-toter."

The stranger at the table hadn't moved. He was just watching them. I wished he'd do something. I wished someone would do something. I had to stop this before it was too late. I had to—

Jess was lightning fast. I'd always been afraid someday he'd meet someone just a hair faster than he was, but that day wasn't today. There was a deafening bang and the smell of gun smoke, and the marshal fell heavily, landing with his head and shoulders on the bar rail. His hand was over his heart, and blood was pouring from under it. He hadn't even cleared leather.

Jess looked startled for only an instant, and then he brandished his gun. "Just everybody stay back." He backed toward the door, thrusting his gun toward the gaping onlookers huddled in the corner. "Move back!"

He shot twice into the ceiling and then ran out the door. I heard a horse galloping away as everyone rushed out into the street.

"Harper killed a marshal!" one of the men out there shouted. "Deputy, you'd better get a posse and go after him!"

I stood where I was, alone in the bar, one hand over my mouth, feeling like I had only a second or two before I was sick. Jess. Dear God in heaven, what had he done?

The marshal was lying where he'd fallen. There wasn't any more blood. Still, I had to see if there was anything I could do.

Somebody grabbed my arm, stopping me where I was, and I turned to see Slim there beside me. He still looked a little woozy, but his face was grim as he looked down at the lawman.

"Nothing you can do here, Jonesy. I'll stay with him. You go get the undertaker."

"Better let me, Slim. You've got to go after Jess."

Slim clenched his jaw. "No."

I thought for a minute he must still be fuzzy-headed after being decked like he was, but his eyes were clear. Grim. Angry.

"But, Slim—"

"What do you want me to do? Help ride him down and bring him back to be hanged?"

"He ought to at least have a trial. If they catch him, they'll lynch him."

His face was hard. "Maybe that's what he deserves."

I couldn't believe my ears, but Slim wasn't budging. He was letting Jess go. Whatever had been between them these past few days must have been deeper than I thought. Sure, they'd squabbled from time to time before, all friends do, but when it came down to it, I'd never seen even brothers closer than the pair of them. Time and again, they'd stood up for one another, stood by each other no matter what. And now—

"Go on, Jonesy," Slim snapped. "Go on down to the parlor and get Mr. Birdsong."

I wiped one trembling hand over my mouth and walked out into the street. All the men were gone, even that stranger who'd been watching so close. Gone to the posse, I expected. Gone to lynch Jess. It was a bad time for Mort Cory to be off somewhere. A bad time. He'd have put a stop to all this nonsense between Jess and Slim a long while back.

No, it wasn't really between the two of them. It was just Jess all the time prodding at Slim. He'd been purely catarankous as he liked to put it, ungrateful for everything Slim had done for him, complaining about doing more than his share of work, about his meager pay, about the broke-down quarters he was supposed to live in and, worse, about the grub he was supposed to eat that wasn't fit for hogs. He'd been surly and sarcastic whenever Slim spoke to him, especially when Slim had some chore he needed done. He'd been the same with me. Maybe not as bad, but bad enough. I didn't know what was wrong with him, but I'd figured it'd blow over in time.

I knew he'd been on his own since the war, free to come and go as pleased himself, taking orders from no one. I'd thought maybe staying in one place even this long had got to fretting him, and he just needed to blow off steam, but I'd never seen something like this coming. Sure, some rowdiness, maybe a fight or two, but not a deliberate killing, a killing for no reason I could tell. Not Jess.

It was late enough that I had to roust the undertaker out of bed. Mr. Birdsong wouldn't come until he was properly dressed, crepe-trimmed hat and all. By the time I got him back to the saloon, Slim had the marshal laid out on the floor and covered with a blanket. He helped Birdsong get the body over to the parlor, and then he and I headed home in silence. Slim didn't even try to talk, and I didn't know what to say. I could see all this was eating him alive. I could see, too, that he'd made up his mind about going after Jess. He wasn't having any part of it. Jess had just torn to pieces every tie between them, every bit of trust and every bit of friendship. It was all gone, and Slim wasn't going to even try to get it back. I didn't know if I wanted to shake him or try to comfort him. It wasn't until we'd got back to the ranch that I realized what the worst part of all this was.

Andy came out to help unload the supplies.

"Hi, Slim," he said, smiling as he hurried to the wagon. "Hi, Jonesy. Where's Jess?"

I should have known that would be his first question. Andy had set a lot of store by that drifter from the very start, and Jess had always been careful of him, protecting him like a little brother, cutting capers with him, often at my expense, as if they were of an age together, even willing to leave his new-found home behind him any time he thought it would be safer for Andy. And with all the wrangling between him and Slim, I could tell he'd tried to not let Andy feel it. He'd passed off his lack of sociability at meals by claiming he was just tuckered out. Slim had seemed grateful for that much and had taken pains to back Jess's story and fill in the gaps of conversation whenever he could.

Of course, Andy couldn't help but notice something wasn't right, but maybe he'd also thought that Jess would settle back in before long. But Jess was gone now. One way or other, he wouldn't be back. Slim couldn't just cover that over. Not for long.

Slim got down from the wagon seat and started loading the boy's arms with boxes.

"Where's Jess?" Andy asked again, his smile fading.

"He had to go away." Slim didn't look at him. "He didn't have time to come back and tell you goodbye."

Andy's dark brows came together. "Why? Where'd he go?"

Slim put a sack of beans on top of the boxes the boy already held. "He didn't say."

"But when will he be back?"

"He didn't say."

I was afraid Andy was going to cut up rough about the whole thing, but then he just let out a long breath.

"I guess he'll be back when he gets back. As always."

"You'd better get those things inside, boy," I told him. "We got a lot to get shifted here."

"All right, Jonesy."

He went back inside, and I started gathering up some things myself. By then, Slim had filled his own arms with the heaviest of our purchases and was heading toward the house.

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "I mean, when Jess doesn't come back. Either he hangs or he stays on the high lope the rest of his life. You expect Andy to stay here waiting for him forever? Lookin' down that road, listenin' for hoofbeats that ain't never gonna come?"

Slim tightened his jaw.

"Even if he does come back," I said, "you'll have to take him in to the law, see him hang. Is that how you want it? You think that'll be better for Andy than knowing now he's on the run?"

"I'll decide what to do about Andy."

"Look here, Slim—"

"This stuff is heavy, Jonesy. We can talk later."

He went inside with his burden, and I followed him with my own.

Andy was rearranging one of the shelves when we came in, making room for what we'd bought.

"I guess I oughtn't to worry about Jess. He always comes back."

He looked from Slim to me, and both of us had to look away. Slim kept his eyes on the sugar and flour he was putting up.

"I guess after he does whatever he's got to do, he'll come riding in," Andy said. "I hope he'll write to us or something if he's going to be gone long."

"Andy," I began, but he only came over to me and patted my shoulder.

"It's all right, Jonesy. I'm sure Jess'll tell us all about it when he gets home."

Slim was standing with his back to us, putting things up in the top of the cabinet, but he stopped for a minute, one hand gripping a can of peaches so hard I was sure he'd crush it. He didn't turn.

"Did you finish your lessons, Andy?" he asked.

The boy nodded. "I did 'em while you were in town."

"Good. It's late now. You'd best get to bed."

I guess Andy could tell by his tone that now wasn't a good time to argue.

"Okay," Andy said softly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Slim said.

"Goodnight, Andy," I said, making my tone warmer than his brother's had been. "You sleep good."

Andy smiled. "I will."

I waited until I heard his door shut. Then I turned back to Slim. He was looking toward Andy's room.

"He ought to know," I said. "The sooner you tell him, the quicker he'll get over it."

"Maybe it won't come to that," he said, his head down as he braced his hands on the table. "Maybe Andy's got the right of it. We'll just wait till Jess comes back."

"I saw him shoot that marshal down for no reason. I'd never have thought he had it in him, wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." I dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. "I don't know. Maybe he was drunk."

Even I didn't believe that. It wasn't often Jess had a little too much, but when he had, he'd never been more than a little fuzzled up, and even then he'd been kinda conversable and friendly like. He never got mean, not like he'd been tonight.

"You and I both know Jess will never come back," I told Slim, struggling to keep my voice low, and he wouldn't even look at me. "He'll be killed— shot, lynched or hanged proper, and you—" I slapped one hand on the table. "You don't even care."

Slim lifted his head then, and his face was set in hard lines. I realized I'd probably shouldn't have added that last.

"You just take care of your own business," he said in that low voice that meant he wasn't far from losing his temper. "I'll see to mine and Andy's."

OOOOO

I can't say I slept all that good that night. All I could do was lie there wondering what could have made him do it. What was in Jess that we hadn't seen all the time he'd been with us? What had suddenly set him off? And where was he now?

Those men in the posse, they were his friends and neighbors, most of 'em anyways. Maybe they wouldn't be too hard on him once they caught him. But the way Jess was acting, maybe he wouldn't let 'em take him gentle. It was like he wanted to run wild and dangerous and spit in the eye of everybody who'd ever done him a kindness. It just didn't figure.

He'd been just fine a few days before, telling Andy the two of them were gonna get together and drag Slim down to the lake to fish, no matter how much work Slim said there was to be done. And then he'd wheedled me into promising to make him some apple pie, even though it wasn't Sunday or anything. Durned if I hadn't done it, too, making sure it was hot and ready when he and Slim got back from whatever they'd had to do in town that afternoon.

Jess had taken one bite of that perfectly good pie, spit it on the floor, and then dumped his plate to follow it, saying he knew a pig farmer who made better slop. Things had already been tense between him and Slim once they got home. They didn't ease when Slim barked at him to apologize and clean up his mess. And it sure didn't help that Jess's only reply was a mocking grin and an invitation for Slim to make him. Slim only glared at him and watched him swagger out of the room. Once he was gone, I'd asked Slim what had happened in town.

"I can't tell you, Jonesy. He's got something chewing on him, best as I can make out."

"But nothing happened? He didn't fight with anybody? With you?"

"Not with me," Slim said. "Not with anybody I saw."

"Well what then? Did he get a letter or something? A wire with bad news?"

"I don't think so." Slim let out a deep breath and then leaned down to pick up Jess's plate from the floor.

"Now, I'll see to that." I wiped up the mess with my apron and then stood up, looking toward the front door. "You don't think he's sick or something, do you? Never saw him turn down pie. Especially not apple."

"Not that I can tell." Slim just propped one elbow on the table and took a glum bite of his own pie. "Guess it'll blow over sooner than later."

It hadn't.

Now I stood in the kitchen making breakfast, reminding myself that it would be for only the three of us this morning. And I couldn't help wondering what the boy was gonna eat since he'd lit out last night with no provisions and not much chance of getting any. For a young fellah about as lean-muscled as a bobcat, he was purt' near bottomless when it came to food. And how he'd stand doing without coffee of a mornin', I just didn't know. I just wished I knew why he'd had to go and kill a man like that.

I was taking the eggs and bacon off the stove when I heard a horse pull up to the house. Andy was out feeding his critters and Slim hadn't finished dressing yet, so I went to see who it was. I was surprised to see it was the stranger from the saloon.

"Good morning," he said, pleasant enough, though he looked a little surprised. "Funny running into you here after last night."

"Not much funny about last night," I allowed. "Something I can do for you?"

"Just stopped to water my horse. Do you mind?"

"Help yourself."

I turned to go back to the kitchen when he stopped me.

"Listen, after all that happened in town, I wasn't in any hurry to stay on. Now I find I'm running short on beans and coffee. Any way I could buy some here? I hate to have to go back into Laramie now, and if I keep going, I don't know if I'll have a chance to buy more before I run out. I'm on my way to Casper."

I shrugged. "Don't see any harm in that. I'll get you some."

It didn't take me a minute to pack up the goods he wanted and take them back out front. I shoulda known not to leave.

"How come you didn't buy 'em in town?" Andy was asking as he petted the stranger's horse.

"Well, after everything happened at the saloon last night, I just didn't think about it till I was nearly here. And your friend said he wouldn't mind selling some, so I guess it all worked out."

"What do you mean, after everything that happened at the saloon?"Andy asked. "What happened?"

He looked at me, and I wished I'd warned that fellah off with my scatter gun the minute he'd pulled up to the place.

"You ought to go tell Slim breakfast's ready," I told him, "and then wash your hands." I gave the stranger a hard look. "This gentleman's in a hurry to get up to Casper."

"Well, what did happen?" Andy asked.

The stranger put one hand on his hip. "Why, boy, I thought you'd have known already. This man and another man with him, they were there and saw the whole thing."

Andy looked at me again, and I could tell he'd realized this had something to do with Jess.

"You were there? And Slim? What happened?"

"Now, Andy—"

He turned and grabbed the stranger's arm. "What happened, mister?"

The man squirmed a little. "Now, it's not a very nice thing to tell, son. I don't know if I ought—"

"What happened?" Andy demanded.

"I'm really not quite sure, to be honest. There was a man in there, drunk probably, who ended up shooting a marshal. He took off with a deputy and a posse after him."

Andy was holding onto the man with both hands now. "But who was the man?"

"Andy," I said low, trying to pull the boy back.

"Who was the man!"

"I didn't know him." The stranger tried to free himself. "Heard him called Jess."

"But the marshal's all right, isn't he?" There were tears in the boy's eyes now. "He's gonna be all right."

"He's dead, son."

"No," Andy said on barely a breath. "No."

Then Slim was there behind him, still with his hair wet and his shirt untucked, pulling Andy away from the stranger.

Andy turned to him, tears coming now, fast and hard. "It's not true, Slim. It's not true. Not Jess. You were there, weren't you? Didn't you see? It couldn't have been Jess."

Slim wrapped his arms around the boy, holding his head against his chest while he sobbed. "I think you'd better be moving along, mister," he said, glaring at the stranger.

"Why'd you have to tell the boy that way," I scolded the man. "Ain't you got any natural feelin's?"

"Sorry," he muttered, taking the coffee and beans and swinging up on his horse, but I coulda swore he looked a little more pleased than sorry, almost like he'd done what he'd come to do.

A minute later he was gone, and Andy was still hanging onto Slim, still crying.

"Come on now," Slim said gently. "Time for breakfast."

Andy wrenched away from him. "I don't want breakfast! I wanna know what happened to Jess! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Andy—"

"It's not true!" Andy beat his fists against Slim's chest. "It's not true! You gotta go find Jess! He'll tell you! It's not true!"

Slim just stood and took it, hanging onto Andy, his jaw clenched as he watched the stranger disappear over the ridge. Finally, he pulled his little brother close again, and Andy clung to him, crying his heart out.

Finally, Slim put his arm around the boy's shoulders and turned him back toward the house. "Come on."

Andy scrubbed his face with his sleeve and let him take him inside. I followed after them, feeling about as tore up as the boy was. It was bad enough without that slick-faced stranger coming to make it worse. Can't understand why anybody'd get pleasure from breaking a boy's heart.

"Come on," Slim said again, drawing Andy toward the table. "Better eat."

Andy shook his head, catching back another sob. "I don't want it. I just want to know what happened. Why aren't you going to get Jess? You gotta bring him back. You gotta bring him home!"

"I can't," Slim said from between gritted teeth. "I can't just take off now. I can't— I can't bring him back to hang."

Andy sobbed and hid his face against his sleeve. Then he grabbed Slim's shirtfront again. "But it's Jess. Slim, it's Jess. You have to—"

"Jess makes his own decisions," Slim said, his voice and his expression hard. "You know that."

"But he's our friend! He— We—" Again the tears welled into Andy's eyes. "Were we wrong about him all this time?"

Slim pulled the boy close again. "Even if Jess did something wrong, no matter what happened, the friendship between you and him, between all of us, was real. I don't want you to ever believe anything different, all right? Jess was— He _is_ our friend." Slim closed his eyes and hugged the boy tight, hanging on to Andy as much as Andy was hanging onto him. "Sometimes you just have to wait and see how things play out."

"But you saw him!" Andy sobbed. "You were there! Why'd he have to do it, Slim? Why? Why wasn't being here with us enough for him? "

Not so many years ago, Slim woulda sat in the rocking chair and pulled the boy into his lap and rocked with him like their ma had done until he was cried out, but Andy was too growed for that now, much as both of them probably needed it.

"Don't be too hard on Jess," Slim said gently, turning Andy's tear-stained face up to him. "Sometimes a man does something he thinks he ought to at the time, not thinking about what might happen after and who it might hurt, and then it's too late to do anything about it afterwards but try to make it right as best he can and hope the folks who love him will try to understand and forgive him."

Andy swallowed down one last sob and then nodded.

I took him by the arm. "Come on, boy. You wash your face and hands and then sit down at the table."

He did as he was told, but he didn't eat. None of us did. After a while, Andy asked to be excused and went out to be with his critters. Slim just sat there with his coffee and looked out toward the hills, out where Jess had probably gone. Maybe he was sorry now he hadn't gone with the deputy and his men. I cleared the cold food off the table and wondered if, in everything he'd said to Andy about hoping folks might still love and forgive someone who chose wrong, Slim was talking about Jess or himself.

I came and poured Slim a fresh cup of coffee. "Who were you trying to convince with all that? Him or you?"

Slim glared at me.

"I guess it's no good trying to make a wolf cub into a lap dog," I said. "I thought Jess had tamed down real nice. Guess I was wrong."

Slim didn't say anything.

OOOOO

Things got to be pretty grim around the ranch after that. There wasn't any news of Jess except the posse had been called off. Another federal marshal came to town and said he and his men'd be tracking Jess down and didn't want any local interference. I knew Slim was worried, but he wouldn't say anything, not about Jess. He wouldn't do anything. The waiting was the hardest part, especially knowing that whatever we heard couldn't be good. It could only bring some kind of end to it all.

Strangely enough, it was Andy who finally perked up again.

"Jess'll come back," he said one afternoon after he'd helped change the stage team.

He'd watched the stage come down the hill and stood there like Jess sometimes did, holding out one hand and seeing how close old Mose could get. Then he'd come smiling into the house.

"I know he'll come back, and then we'll know what happened."

He sat at the table with the stack of cookies he'd swiped from the kitchen and I brought him a glass of milk.

"That marshal must have done something bad," he said, "and Jess knew about it and had to kill him, and when he can, Jess will come back and explain and then he won't be in trouble anymore."

"You gotta be realistic," I told him. "Jess was too wild to be kept penned up long. He's like that wolf cub you used to have. You can't make him anything but what he is."

"But that's why I know he'll be back, that none of this can be like it looks, 'cause we know Jess. Jess has to be what he is, and he wouldn't kill somebody for no reason, even if we don't know what the reason is."

Slim came in just then, sweated out from bringing eight or ten horses into the corral.

"You talk some sense to the boy," I told him.

Slim only got his own cookies and milk and sat down, his face as set and stubborn as ever I'd seen it. "I hope Jess'll come back sometime and prove Andy right."

Andy grinned and carried his empty glass to the sink. "I gotta go feed the chickens."

I glared at Slim once the boy was out of the house. "You don't believe that anymore'n I do!"

"I'm not gonna have Andy torn up over this anymore," Slim said. "And it could be he's right."

"And if Jess never comes back?"

Slim pushed back his chair and went to the window, looking again to the hills.

OOOOO

I guess it was a couple of days afterwards that I was sitting in the rocker reading the paper. We'd still heard nothing about Jess. I'd about decided we weren't going to ever again. Slim was out checking the stock for the night, and I suppose that's why Andy decided he'd be brash enough to take Jess's quick-draw gun out of the hidey-hole in the side of the fireplace. He kept trying to imitate Jess's fast draw, complete with cold stare, and after a minute or two, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Andy, how many times you gotta be told not to play with that thing?"

Andy holstered the gun. "I'm not playin'." Quick as he could, he drew again. "I'm practicin'."

I wasn't the least bit impressed. "If Slim thought you were big enough to have a gun, he'd have got you one."

He holstered the gun and went to the fireplace.

"Jonesy," he said, putting the gun back inside the open hole and then closing the place back up again. Afterward, he came over to stand by me, put his left hand on the back of the rocker, and stuck his right into the empty holster. "I think Jess'd want me to have that gun."

I folded up the newspaper and looked him up and down. "Andy, I'm a lot bigger than you are. Well, not much, but I'm a lot older by a long sight, and I never handle a gun unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Well, I might have to sometime. And if I do," he said, patting the holster, "I want to be able to use it."

I opened my mouth to tell him what a bad idea that was when the front door opened. By golly, if it wasn't Jess.

"Hi!" he said as if he'd been gone only since this morning.

Andy's face lit and he ran to him. "Well, Jess!"

They grabbed each other by the arms, both of 'em grinning to beat all creation.

"Andy," Jess said. "Boy am I glad to see you. You, too, Jonesy."

I couldn't believe the brass of that boy, waltzing in here like—

"Well, I'm not glad to see you." I got up and went to the door, and then I noticed that someone else had come in, too. "Oh, hi, marshal," I said, and I pointed at Jess. "I'm glad you got the culprit."

I turned away and then, suddenly realizing what I'd seen, I turned back to the marshal. "You're supposed to be dead!"

That jackanapes had the gall to chuckle at me. "I'm no ghost, Jonesy."

"Well, if this whole thing is a joke," I sputtered, "so help me, I'll—"

"It's no joke, Jonesy," Jess said earnestly. "I shot the marshal all right, but I shot him with a blank cartridge."

"What?"

"Jess went off on a secret mission for the government," the marshal explained. "We had to make it look like he was a wanted killer." He put his hand over his heart and slipped his fingers in next to his skin. "Uh, I had a little sack of chicken blood inside my shirt. It looked pretty good, didn't it."

He chuckled again, and I was about ready to belt him one.

"Yeah," I said. Of all the—

Andy tugged on Jess's arm and then hung on. "Well, what kind of secret mission?"

Jess grinned at him again, looking like he could never see enough of him and of home. "Hey, I'll tell you about it later. It's a long story."

I pointed at Jess, not ready to let him off the hook this easy. "But you didn't have to hit Slim!"

Jess ducked his head a little. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his fist. "I know I hit him kinda hard, but I had to. He was in on it."

"In on it?" I looked from him to the marshal, about ready to spit nails. "Well, wait till I see— I don't know who I'm maddest at." I poked the marshal's broad chest. "But I think it's you.

He chuckled again, and I was about ready to deck him for it. "We had to keep it a secret. We couldn't take any chances."

I glared at him as fierce as I could. "Yeah, I'll have you know that I cried my eyes out at your funeral."

Then I looked at Jess and he looked at me, a little bit of uncertainty in his eyes, and I couldn't help myself anymore. I took hold of his arms, and he took hold of mine, and we both held on tight.

"Hi, boy," I said, and I reached up to touch his face. He looked worn. Dirty and kinda roughed up. I expected we'd hear in good time about all he'd done on his secret government mission, but I could tell already that it hadn't been easy on him. I guess it hadn't been easy on any of us. "You want some coffee?"

"I sure do. What they passed for coffee up at Corteen's about killed me."

"I'll rustle some up. You come sit down. Coffee, marshal?"

The two of them sat at the table. Andy sat, too, but he pulled his chair close to Jess's, his hand on Jess's arm and his eyes shining. Before he had a chance to ask again about Jess's mission, Slim came in from the barn.

"I saw your horses out front," he said, and he gave Jess a curt nod. "About time."

Jess gave him a lopsided grin.

"Marshal," Slim said, shaking hands with the man. "Good to see you. I guess everything's settled now."

"All done," the marshal assured him. "Thanks to Jess here." He nodded at me and then at Andy. "And you both are due some thanks, too. I know it couldn't have been easy on you not knowing what had happened to Jess."

I decided to brazen it out."We knew all along he couldn't have done what it looked like he had. Not our Jess."

It was worth it for the look on Slim's face.

Andy giggled.

The marshal chuckled for what I hoped was the last time and then got to his feet. "You know, I think I'll pass up the coffee for tonight, Jonesy," he said. "I'm about as tuckered out as Jess and Slim look, and my bed's calling to me. It ain't easy being dead you know." He leaned over to Andy. "You make him tell you all about it, boy. That's the least he can do to make it up to you."

Andy hugged onto Jess's arm. "I'm going to."

The marshal shook Jess by the hand. "That was a fine job you did up there, son. Mighty fine." Then he shook Slim's hand, too. "And it just might be you had the toughest job of us all. Thank you."

"Glad it all came out right," Slim said.

Once the marshal was gone, Slim turned to Jess, looking him over. The light was better at the table, and Jess looked a little worse than he had at the door, a little more tired, a little more battered. The boy ought to be in bed.

"You all right?" Slim asked him.

"I am now." Jess looked at the three of us and then he looked around the room. "Awful good to be home."

Slim swatted his shoulder. "Good to have you back. I guess you told them."

Jess nodded. "I pretty much had to once Jonesy saw the marshal."

"You two ought to be ashamed for putting me and Andy through all this," I said to them.

Andy looked at Slim, the smile leaving his eyes and the hurt coming back in. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have said anything to anybody."

"It's my fault," Jess said at once. "I was afraid someone from Corteen's bunch would show up at the ranch and snoop around. If what I did hadn't upset things here, then they'd have known something was up."

"Wait a minute," I said. "That stranger in the saloon that night, the one sitting by himself. He was—"

"He was Jamieson, one of Corteen's captains. He was the one we put on the show for."

"Why that sidewinder! He came out here to the ranch and just about broke Andy's heart tellin' him what you'd done. And he never did pay for the beans and coffee he took with him."

Slim reached over and squeezed Andy's shoulder. "I'm sorry about all that. I was hoping you wouldn't even know about any of this until Jess was back. I never set out to hurt you."

Andy dropped his eyes, frowning a little.

"Neither of us would," Jess told Andy, his voice low and gentle.

Andy smiled at him. Only a little.

"You'd have been proud of him, Jess," Slim said. "The whole time, he said there had to be something going on we didn't know about because he knew you couldn't have done what they said you did."

"I knew you couldn't!" Andy said.

Jess jostled his shoulder. "Thanks. That means a lot. And you gotta know Slim here wouldn't ever do anything to hurt you if he could help it. I know letting you believe everything I did was real was about the hardest thing Slim's ever done, but there were a lot of lives at stake in this, here and in Canada, and we couldn't say no when the government asked our help."

"I understand," Andy said, and he finally gave Slim an apologetic little smile.

Slim's eyes met Jess's, and there was deep gratitude in them.

"And Jonesy," Jess said, looking at me with those big blue eyes of his full of innocent remorse. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"Well now, I don't know. I guess, maybe, as long as you don't cut anymore monkeyshines like this. Ever."

"Oh, I don't mean about the marshal and all that," Jess said. "I mean about that pie I threw on the floor. It was awful good."

I glared at him, and then I had to hold back a smile seeing all three of my boys looking at me hopefully.

"I'll fix us all some coffee," I grumbled at last. "And then I'll see about making another pie."

THE END

**Author's Note: I always wondered what was going on at home while Jess was off quelling the "Midnight Rebellion." This is my take on what might have happened. I'd love to know what you think.**


End file.
